the spaceport
by techviper
Summary: same old boring crap that i usually write...well maybe with a (look, at least i tried) bit of humour injected. i tried to do the "life of a ..." nonsense, i just didn't do it good. or so i think. ok i'm wasting time here. r&r please


The spaceport was a hive of activity around the clock. The Republic Convention had just been adjourned and the spring holiday season was starting in two days. In the midst of all this was a young man, with terrifyingly hollow cheekbones and tousled hair streaked white from stress. The bags under his eyes stood out like black on white. Twelve high-ranking diplomats had just departed for Malastare and the fact that he was expecting an armoury convoy in approximately three hours didn't help much. Weapon convoys were tricky things. If the underground thugs heard about it, you were in for a bad shift. Luckily, seventeen of the galaxy's main weapons manufacturers had agreed to disguise their convoys as harmless things like ice-cream or perfume, and (obviously) alerting the authorities about it first. You never could be too careful these days. The young man sighed heavily. The life of a spaceport officer was a tiring one, not to mention the terrible pay. Seeing that there were no more arrivals for the next few minutes, he sauntered over to the nearby bar.  
  
" What can I do for ya, kid?" the bartender had all six arms drying glasses faster than any newfangled machine on the market." It'll be a while, jest sitcha self sown an' I'll be rawt there.Dio! Get yer hind off that chair and wash the dishes!" Grumbling about lazy youngsters, the bartender finished his drying and faced the young customer.  
  
" Zrobvach Purple. Make it strong."  
  
" Ah. New 'round here are you?"  
  
" Aye.bloody tourists.walk in without a shuttle pass, alert security for the most absurd reasons then make one hell of a noise about the service.top me up."  
  
" It gits to ya at first, then you learn to shrug it off.you're doin' a fine job, kid.never caught your name, by the way."  
  
" Kytson. Jon Kytson." He took an alarmingly long swig at his drink.  
  
At this moment, they both had to duck to avoid a stray laser beam from a brawl at the lottery next door. Kytson winced at the shouts and noises coming out of the booth.  
  
" Idiot Graund.probably refused to pay out winnings again." the bartender shook his head in disgust. " Ah well..." he glared straight into Kytson's tired eyes. " Tell you a litt'l secret, kiddo. You look lark the kinda kid who'cn be trusted wit' this kinda thing.Never offer a tourist from tha Outer Rim a discount. An' trade by credits only. Every officer who offers an Outer Rimmer a discount is either goin' ta get inta' brawl, or get fired. Or both. Usually both." He smiled at Kytson's shocked expression. " These guys can be darn persuasive. Especially wit' a pistol." He grunted heavily as he heaved himself up from the counter. " Well, time ta get goin' for ya, in't it? Ken see a few 'vm Outer Rimmers owt' there.time for ya to try out my strategy." He touched his worn cap lightly as Kytson walked away, then walked off to mop the floor.  
  
The clock tower started chiming. The bartender threw off his apron and began to pack up. The working day was over. As he pulled down the shutter and walked out of his bar, peddlers offered him everything from sweets to illegal contraband. He jostled his way to the door, aliens of all shapes and sizes we meeting, arguing, or readying weapons behind their backs.  
  
A Del'marqui tourist was getting directions from a human. The bartender smiled at the question.  
  
" Rikono saryu youa blarrrrdaey darom ashhool?"  
  
" Who you calling a**hole, a**hole?"  
  
This was followed by a ten-minute long stream of rather obscene wording. The man's chums had to restrain him from punching the confused alien. Five steps away, two huge Rodians were having a wrestling match. An officer barely half the size of one of the wrestlers was trying to separate the two. The smaller one flicked him away like a fly.  
  
As the bartender reached the door, he turned around and smiled. This was life. 


End file.
